


Being A Conversation Between Two Lovers

by nianeyna



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Content Warning: Soppy, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Heartfelt declarations of love, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nianeyna/pseuds/nianeyna
Summary: me: Emm would definitely run into a burning building to save that manuscript lollilithqueen: okay but you know I'm tempted to say that does happen at least once.It did happen. Honoroit finds out.(This is a missing scene/unauthorized sidequel to "Being A Collection Of Letters Across The Sea" and probably won't make sense unless you read that first, which you should do anyway because it's lovely.)





	Being A Conversation Between Two Lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilithqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Being A Collection Of Letters Across The Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322320) by [lilithqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen). 



Emmanellain wasn't quite sure when the feeling of stunned joy was going to abate. He'd never felt like this in his life. It had started when Honoroit had _kissed him back_ at the docks, which activity they'd taken to an inn room after noticing that the sailors from the ship Emmanellain had just disembarked from were _clapping_. And then they'd gone on continuing it, only, well, _more_ , and with less clothes. And all the while he’d felt so _light_ , as though nothing in the world was wrong, and nothing could ever be wrong again, not so long as Honoroit was here, with him. It was unprecedented. It was like being drunk on the very finest wine that money could buy, but _better_.

Now they were lying tangled together in bed, heads resting on the same pillow. Honoroit was smiling at him from a distance of bare ilms. His face was practically glowing. Emmanellain would have cheerfully walked off a cliff for that smile, even if it hadn’t been directed at him, but it _was_ , seemingly, though he kept having to stop himself looking around behind him, just in case.

Honoroit huffed at him as if he could read his thoughts and thought they were silly, and started to slide his arm around Emmanellain's back. He paused, though, when he encountered the oddly smooth patch of skin on his shoulder blade. "What's - what is this?" he asked, frowning, and then, "Is this a _burn_? This wasn't here before, I've helped you dress enough times, I would have seen it. What _happened_? You never mentioned this in your letters."

"Oh - yes," said Emmanellain, mourning the loss of the smile. "I didn't want to worry you, but I'm afraid our study at Dragonhead is a bit worse for wear. The servants managed to scrub off most of the scorch marks, but we had to get in new desks and our records were a complete loss. Oh, but don't worry! Your manuscript is fine. The paperwork is hopelessly snarled, I was still working it out when I left and it had been months already. We think it was a stray spark from the fireplace, though no one was there when the fire started."

Honoroit had pulled back a little during this speech, eyes wide. Now he looked puzzled. "You weren't there? Then how...?"

Emmanellain blinked at him. "Didn't I say? Your notes for the book. I had to rescue them." He blushed. "I... didn't realize my doublet was on fire at first. Corentiaux had to put me out." That had been embarrassing. It was strange, because it had hurt abominably for ages afterward, but at the time he hadn't felt a thing. Even when Corentiaux had started swatting at his back in alarm after he'd staggered out of the room clutching his precious burden, he'd thought at first it was because of how hard he'd been coughing.

Honoroit sat up, staring at Emmanellain in what looked like horror. "It's fine," Emmanellain rushed to reassure him. "The box was a bit singed, but -"

"The _box_?" said Honoroit, pale. 

"It didn't actually catch, so your notes -"

" _Stop talking about my notes!_ " Honoroit nearly screamed. 

He looked furious, and Emmanellain flinched back into the pillows, frantically trying to work out what he'd done wrong. He felt very cold everywhere that Honoroit wasn’t touching him anymore, and the sudden transition from euphoria to what felt like panic was nauseating. _Say something,_ he thought at himself desperately. _Make him smile at you again._ But he didn't understand, and his head was full of unhelpful white noise, so the only thing he could think of to say was, "What?"

Honoroit stared down at him incredulously. "That burn is the size of my _hand_. What were you _thinking_ , you _went into a fire -_ "

"What do you mean, what was I thinking?" asked Emmanellain, utterly confused. "Of course I wasn't going to let your life's work go up in flames."

"Of course not," Honoroit repeated numbly. "My _life's work?_ The bloody _book?_ That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. Do you have chocobo feathers for brains? I can't believe..." He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again they were far too bright. "My lo - Emmanellain. _You_ are my life's work." 

Emmanellain stared at him.

His mouth trembled. "Did you think I served you all these years because I had nothing better to do? I _pledged myself to you._ " He pulled in a breath that was horribly like a sob. "So if you could refrain from _setting yourself on fire,_ " he choked out, "that would be -"

Emmanellain tackled him back into the pillows.

It couldn't be helped, he thought, kissing Honoroit urgently. He couldn't possibly have listened to one more word of that without kissing Honoroit. Honoroit, who was kissing him back just as desperately, and who was shuddering in his arms with suppressed sobs.

Emmanellain had never seen Honoroit cry, ever, and he hoped he never would again because it was tearing his heart to shreds. It was unbearable. Every part of him needed for it to stop immediately, even the small voice that whispered, disbelieving - _for me?_ "I'm sorry," said Emmanellain, tripping over the words, "I won't do it again, I promise, just please don't cry."

"You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for!" Honoroit accused, gasping. His eyelashes were clumped together in heartbreaking spikes. "It's not that you were hurt. I hate it when you're hurt, but you are a knight of Ishgard, I would never ask you to shun all danger. It's that you. You thought. You held your own safety less important than a bundle of paper. You thought that I wouldn't care." He blinked, and the first tear rolled down his temple. Emmanellain wanted to brush it away, desperately, but he felt frozen. Honoroit caught his gaze, anguished. "Have I been so cold to you?" he cried, his voice breaking. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I never wanted you to know, I didn’t think you'd accept it, but I thought at least you knew that you were not - replaceable. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'd give my life for you. I thought you knew."

This shook Emmanellain out of his paralysis. "I don't want you to give your life for me!" he said, appalled. "I love you."

"What!" said Honoroit, wiping his eyes and glaring with irritation. "Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same, you risked your life for something I _wrote_." Then he looked uncertain.

"Yes, of course I would!" said Emmanellain. Was that even a _question_? "But that's different!"

Honoroit stared up at him for a moment, looking deeply outraged. _What now_ , Emmanellain wondered, heavy with dread. He didn't know how this conversation had gone so wrong, it felt like a nightmare.

Then Honoroit's lips twitched. Slowly, like the sun coming up, a smile spread across his face. He started to laugh. It was shaky, and perhaps tinged with hysteria, but undeniably fond. Emmanellain had no idea what was happening, but he felt dizzy with relief.

"Oh, my lord," Honoroit sighed, pushing at Emmanellain's shoulder so they were once again lying on their sides. Emmanellain went easily. He'd go anywhere Honoroit asked.

"It's not different," said Honoroit, like a vow into the space between them. "I'll convince you." His green eyes were steady, though red-rimmed. "I swear it. Even if it takes the rest of our lives."

Emmanellain tucked _the rest of our lives_ next to _you hold my whole heart_ , so that he would never forget it. They lay in silence, catching their breaths. Emmanellain smoothed a tangle of fine red hair back from Honoroit's face, so that he could see him better, and because Honoroit always smiled when Emmanellain touched his hair.

"Thank you," Honoroit murmured, after a while. "I forgot to say. For saving my notes. I should have been quite put out to lose them. But losing _you_..." he trailed off. After a moment he caught Emmanellain's hand and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes. Then he kissed the fingers softly, and guided Emmanellain's arm around his back, tucking his head under Emmanellain's chin with a little sigh.

Emmanellain held his beloved as he was bid, listening to the fire crackle in the grate and the wind soughing outside, speechless with awe.

**Author's Note:**

> Further headcanon not appearing in this story: Emmanellain really fucked up his lungs with the smoke inhalation, and he now inevitably catches every single respiratory infection he comes into contact with. Honoroit _frets_. (But when Emm whines too much he also points out that this wouldn’t be happening if _certain people_ hadn’t been stupid enough to walk into a room that was _on fire_. Is he ever going to let this go? _Never._ )


End file.
